


Love Tales à la Cart(man)

by The Elder Gays (Katanachan)



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Compliant, Comedy, Derogatory Language, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Love Confessions, M/M, Misogyny, One-Sided Attraction, POV First Person, Satire, Slice of Life, Slurs, Unreliable Narrator, it's exactly what you'd expect, oblivious narrator, offensive language, shitpost, this is from Cartman's point of view
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katanachan/pseuds/The%20Elder%20Gays
Summary: When a hapless Tweek comes to seek advice from Cartman on how to get Kyle's attention, he doesn't realize the can of worms he's opening.Gird your loins, South Park.





	Love Tales à la Cart(man)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, this is from Cartman's point of view. While we do not condone his derogatory language, we wanted it to be true to character. If you know anything about South Park, you know what to expect. 
> 
> That being said, is Cartman the most unreliable narrator ever?  
> Possibly. 
> 
> This is just a giant shitpost, you guys, but we really hope you enjoy it. There are pairings galore and tons of jokes everywhere. You know. Like shit jokes. True comedy gold.

“You have to call him a dirty Jew,” I try to explain to my dim-witted and completely unaware counterpart. To my displeasure, he simply curls his lip and shakes his head, blond mop of hair flopping around making him look more like a rabid dog.

“ _W-what_?! I’m not calling Kyle that!” Tweek screeches in his high pitched whine that he calls a voice. Sounds more like a tea kettle going off if you ask me. I roll my eyes and fix the idiot with a look; _he came to me_ , so why he was questioning my brilliant advice, I have no idea.

“You want Kyhal’s attention, right?” I ask as Tweek fidgets across from me, “Then you have to _get_ his attention.”

“That seems like a rather extreme way to get his attention,” Tweek chides with a look to the side, “couldn’t I just, I don’t know, talk to him?”

I laugh so open and loud that the gaggle of girls across from us in the courtyard turn their collective heads to look at us. I send them a wink. The chicks love my laugh, it drives their womanly hearts into such a frenzy. I’m surprised I can keep them off of me, I’m such a beefcake.

But my attention needs to be on Tweek and how utterly wrong he is. “If you wanted to just talk to him, dipshit, you would have already. But you can’t, because you’re a big ole pussy.”

Tweek scoffs and I stand my ground, waiting for him to argue. He stutters a few times, and it’s clear from the red across his face that he’s pissed the fuck off, but he knows I’m right. _I’m always right_. “So, you need something new, which is why you’re talking to me. If I know one thing in this world, it’s how to get Kyhal Broflovski's attention.”

“Yeah but I don’t _want_ negative attention!” Tweek whines and I can barely contain myself at the way it goes up another octave. He really is gay. What’s with gay men and acting so girly? How in the world did Craig put up with this?

“I can’t believe I shipped you two, Jesus. Grow some balls, Tweek. Call him a dirty Jew. Not Jewish, Not Hebrew. A Jew. And you’ll have his attention.”

A sharp ‘ _No!_ ’ comes from the Chihuahua-like boy across from me and I resist the urge to plug my finger in my ear. “Why did I even come to you?” Tweek continues, his fingers pulling at locks of his hair, which, _who does that?_ God.

“Okay, you’re more of a loser than I thought. Listen, we can try something else. You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you Gays.” I nod and continue, “And that kid ain’t straight, he’s some kinda butt-stuffer. I’ve known him my whole life. I get it, your gaydar sniffed him out, but man, Tweek, you’d think you’d do better than _Kyhal_.”

“I don’t like him just because he is or...uh, isn’t gay!” Tweek defends. He looks put out and I have no idea why. Maybe I pushed insulting his gay love too much? Sighing deeply, because I’m such a fabulously understanding friend, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to insult your gay romance.” I can feel the other’s shoulder tense under my hand so I remove it, looking back at him. “I promise I can get you in with the Japanese girls. They’ll draw a little Twyle, work their magic. I’ll put in a good word with Cupid-Me, he’ll do some co-opt action while you and me work on gettin’ you to talk to him,” I throw my arm over his shoulder, turning the vibrating human toward the school entrance. “And you’ll be in his _ginger fro_ in no time flat.”

Tweek lets out a sharp, “ _Jesus what?!_ ” as I feel one of Kenny’s trademark eyebrow waggles happen. Damn it. I’ve been hanging out with him too much lately, he’s really starting to rub off on me.

Haha. Ew. Gay.

\-----

It’s hard being me sometimes; knowing more than everyone else, being so smart I can figure out people like a puzzle. They’re so simple. So easy. So malleable. You push here, prod there, and boom, a reaction that will tumble into a avalanche that creates the exact shit storm I need to get what I want.

Like I said, it’s hard to be me sometimes. No one really poses much of a challenge, not really. Well, I take that back, my friends _almost_ do. Kenny, that poor sack of shit, can’t die. So that’s funny as hell on levels no one else gets, since whenever he’s impaled by whatever god awful bullshit our town decides to stick in him, everyone forgets. Everyone but me. Have I used that a few times? You’re damn skippy I have, who the fuck wouldn’t?

I mean, if you had a chance to do something awful and completely get away with it because your cursed friend died, wouldn’t you? Erase that shit from existence, fare thee well!

Then we’ve got Stan, drunk-nihilistic, head so far up Wendy’s asshole he doesn’t even realize he’s had his other fist up Kyle’s taint until it was too late for him to do jack shit about it. But I don’t think Stan will care much eventually, because that train wreck barely cares about anything. Maybe I should do something about that, _maybe_.

 _Then we have Kyhal._ Self absorbed, fake-woke, bitching if he isn’t trying to martyr himself, martyring himself if he isn’t bitching. He’s such a Jew that he can’t even see past his own religion to tell that he’s a dickhole just like everyone else in this town. He thinks he’s better. Thinks he’s _chosen_ half the time, and it doesn’t even have to do with being a Jew. Which is why I remind him as often as I can that he’s nothing special. But, hey, I’ll give him this: he is smart, and he is fun to fuck with.

People think I must hate my friends. But frankly, I rather hangout with a cursed poor kid, a alcoholic nihilist, and a self-absorbed hero complex Jew, than anyone else in this boring and fucked up mountain town.

Know why?

Because even through their flaws, they’re still better than everyone else. They’re still loyal, entertaining, and god damn hilarious. They’re my friends, and for this reason alone, I’m going to help Tweek Tweak break through to Kyle. Because I think that little gay fluff ball could be good for him. I think he can really calm his tits, and he really needs to.

\-----

I’m sitting next to Kenny, biding my time while I take a few bites of my left overs from last night. Kenny keeps side eyeing my KFC, his hood up so he thinks I don’t notice. He knows I’m not going to share with him and he isn’t trying to ask. I can tell he just wishes he could have a cool ass lunch like me.

Sometimes my chest feels funny for a second, I reach up and slam my fist against my rib cage, trying to knock loose whatever is giving me this pain. I can feel my lips twist down. Fuck, it’s guilt. I fucking hate guilt.

“ _Kinny_ ,” I whine out, squinting my eyes at him as he jumps to attention beside me. “Stop eye-fucking my chicken. It’s giving me heartburn.”

“I- what? I didn’t, I wasn’t..” he tries to defend, his eyes sharp as he narrows his eyebrows. “Shut up, Eric,” he grounds out and I can _hear_ the hunger in his voice. That pain strikes me again and I grumble loudly, my hands slamming against the table.

“KINNY!”

“God, _what_?!” he snaps at me, pulling down his hood, blue eyes boring into me and I feel like, like for a second, that I’m not a good friend.

“Fine. I’m such a good friend, if you help me with something, you can have this.” I dangle a chicken leg in front of him, Kenny looks confused but he’s poor so I know he won’t say no.

“Uh... okay?” he finishes after a beat, a lone blond eyebrow lowering as he stares at the chicken. “I would have helped—“ he starts but I drop the drum stick down on top of his weak ass lunch, cutting him off.

“Shh. _Shh_ , Kinny. I know I’m gracious. I don’t need to hear it,” I pause as Kenny starts eating the chicken without so much as another word, and I turn to him. “We, are going to get Kyhal and Tweek together.”

I’m surprised as Kenny starts to choke on the chicken, his eyes bugging out and hand gripping his throat, wheezing.

I’m not in the mood to watch him die today, so I slap his back hard as fuck, the chicken flying out and across the lunch room until it slaps Bebe in the back of the head. A loud scream of “ _GROSS!!!_ ” coming from the girls' table as Kenny shakily reaches for water, greedily gulping it down.

“Not today, Satan,” I grin before Kenny’s red and wet eyes turn to me. He can thank me later. I know I’m awesome. I don’t need him to tell me.

It takes another five minutes and a whole glass of water before Kenny is back to normal. “Tweek?” he questions, and I roll my eyes taking a bite of chicken. I point the chicken at Kenny and smile wickedly.

“Yeah, it’s great. Tweek’s Gay, Kyle’s Gay. What’s not to love about it?” I take another violent bite as Kenny shakes his head.

“That’s not normally how it works, just because two people are gay, Eric.”

“Duh,” I spit a little chicken when I talk, but fuck it, Kenny deserves it for not understanding my master plan. “Kyhal needs someone like Tweek to put his gay ass in check. He’s so high maintenance, he needs someone on his level.”

“I didn’t realize you thought about Kyle’s relationships so much?” Kenny grins. I know what he’s implying but I shake it off as he wiggles his brow at me.

“Shut up, assclown. I think about everyone’s relationships, I’m a sensitive guy.” Kenny just stares at me before he’s flashing his gapped teeth at me, and I really wish I hadn’t given him this in.

“Do you think about _my_ relationships?” he asks, his lips doing that thing he does when he thinks he’s being coy. I want to roll my eyes, but instead I smirk back. I can play this game.

“Yeah, I do,” I start, his eyes blinking a few times, “you’re too poor to be choosy. I think you would take pussy or dick, and I think you’re a pitch catcher, cause you’re not picky. How close am I?” I ask, watching his face morph from surprise to embarrassment. It’s fun to watch Kenny lose his cool. He forgets I’m awesome and that I know him. Unlike most people, who just see an orange parka and a quiet, perverted poor kid.

“You just want love, you’re desperate like that,” I end my description, and he looks like he’s sulking now.

“Come on, Kinny. Cheer up. Someone will get past your rabies and syphilis one day to love you. You’ll live in a nice little trailer park-“ I can't even finish the sentence without laughing. He draws back and I know he’s about to do it before I feel the pain in my shoulder.

“Ow! Asshole!” I yell, rubbing the spot where he punched me. “Fuck you Kinny, I hate you,” I spit at him, but Kenny has his hood back up with his arms crossed, closed off.

I feel that pain in my chest again and I grumble about feeling this way. How dare he make me feel things, like _bad_ things? “Fine. I’m sorry Kinny, I don’t hate you and you don’t have rabies.”

“And I don’t have syphilis!” Kenny grounds out from inside his hood, muffled. But I know what he said, feeling my lips tug down in a frown.

“Herpes?” I joke, poking his parka. Kenny can’t resist the joke, I can hear his smile when he shouts, ‘ _Dude!_ ’

I chuckle as I spot Stan and Kyle walking out of the lunch line. I slap Kenny on the shoulder a few times, excitement thrumming through me.

“Oh oh, _oh_. Here he comes, come on Kinny. You gotta help me. Please?” I pout, knowing Kenny has a good heart and there’s no way that dick-nugget is going to turn me down when I’m _actually_ pleading.

Kenny visibly gives up, shoulders sagging as he pulls his hood back down. I can see the defeated look on his face, which tells me he’s going to give me exactly what I want. _Like always_.

“What’s going on fellas?”

 _Awh, FUCK._ I do _not_ need Butters here right now, not when I’m about to launch my brilliant plan. But it’s too late as the wannabe twink squishes in-between Kenny and I.

Who the hell does he think he is?!

“Butters, what the actual shit are you doing?” I ask as he settles in, Kenny shoving over to give him his space.

“Well, I’m fixin’ to eat my lunch. Why?” his annoying ass voice sounds out as I see red. I want to slap that dumb ass ignorant smile off of his stupid ass face. But instead I grind my teeth.

“I hate you with every fiber of my being, Butters.” It’s not long before the turd has the nerve to smile at me and laugh.

“Naw, you don’t, Eric.”

His parents must drop him on his stupid head more than we all thought. How thick can one person be?  I’m infuriated by the time Stan and Kyle make their way to the table, sitting down and finishing off whatever stupid, lame conversation they were having.

“Serious dude, I saw him put five in his mouth at once. I couldn’t believe it. One was enough, but _five_?” Stan finishes, looking astounded. Kyle, on the other hand, looks disgusted and I almost want to ask, but Butterfuck beats me to it.

“Whatcha talkin’ bout, Stan?” he asks curiously, and I want to slap him.

“Oh, uh. Kevin Stoley dared Scott Malkinson to put five worms in his mouth during science. We were dissecting them and like, Red was all, ‘I wonder what they taste like’ and Kevin wanted to impress her,” Stan makes a face and we all collectively sigh, because we’re all done to fuck with this puppy crush Kevin has on Red.

Fuck or get off the pot, Stoley, Jesus.

“So he did it? Because Kevin dared him to? That’s so ridiculous. Why would someone do that?” Kyle scoffs and I feel the word vomit before I even say it.

“Well, Kyhal, people do weird things for love. Too bad you’ve never dated anyone, or you’d know.”

His face turns three shades of red as Butters whoops and hollers next to me, high-fiving me. And suddenly I hate him less.

“W-well, shut up fat ass! You barely get to count Heidi. She dumped your stupid ass and got far away from you the moment common sense came back to her.”

I’m taken back for a second, my expression full of mock hurt as my hand flies to my chest. “Why, Kyhal. Are you insinuating that women lack common sense?” I say this so loud a few girls around our table turn, and my lips curl as Kyle sputters.

“What?! No! I didn’t- that’s not what I meant! Girls are just as smart as boys,” as he tries to dig himself out of his own fox hole, Butters lifts his sandwich and adds the nail to the coffin for me.

“I didn’t know gay men hated women so much. Gosh, Kyle, that sure ain’t nice to say. You should respect women more.”

I suddenly am reminded why Butters is the coolest person I know, behind me.

Kyle looks pale, looking to Stan and Kenny for help. I know Stan’s going to get there first, and like a good lap dog, he narrows his eyebrows and frowns.

“Not cool, dude, Kyle isn’t gay.”

That...is not what I was expecting, and by the look on Kyle, Kenny, and Butters’ faces- they’re just as shocked to hear that statement come out of Stan’s mouth as _I_ am.

“Uh,” Kenny starts, his head tilting, “Stan, Kyle _is_ gay.”

“...Nuh uh,” Stan unintelligently says, and I’m about to shit myself.

“Yuh huh,” Butters quips as he takes a bite of his egg salad. “You’d have to be some kinda dumbass bitch to not realize that.”

Stan sits there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Dude he’s like, super fucking gay,” Kenny adds and I feel like it’s my birthday all over again.

Stan pales more, looking to Kyle, “B-but, he would have told me. Dude, we’re super best friends! I thought we were super best friends!”

Kyle looks so put out that I know he’s reached a limit, sanity is out the door and he’s about to lose his Jew shit. It takes two more seconds before he’s slamming his hands on the table, “STAN! I _told_ you!”

“...Nuh uh,” Stan repeats and so help me God, I can’t hold in my laughter any longer.

I feel like I’m going to piss my fucking pants with how hilarious the entire situation is. This whole time I thought Stan knew about Kyle being gay, but was just stuck in Testaburger’s carnivorous twat. Turns out, dear ole Stanley is just a god damn moron.

Kenny feels the need to be Kenny, walking to the other side of the table and patting poor dumb Stan on the shoulder. Stan looks up between him and then back down at Kyle, who has his head firmly on the table, clearly given up on life.

“So, Kyle’s gay? That’s cool, right? Gay people are cool,” Stan tries, and Kenny pats Stan’s shoulder again.

“Yeah, Stan. He’s still Kyle, he’s still your SBF,” I inwardly cringe when Kenny abbreviates an already stupid fucking title, but I calm my laughter because I can’t miss this opportunity.

“Don’t worry Stan, he isn’t going to try to butt pound you. His gay eyes are searching other far off lands. Your ass virginity is safe.”

“So help me God, Cartman—“ Kyle stops and I look at him with the most shocked expression I can muster.

“A Jew, swearing to God? I’m shocked.” Butters snorts out a laugh beside me and I sit up a little straighter, feeling like I’m really on top of my game today. Kyle, on the other hand, seems to be crumbling like so much kitty litter.

“Fucking- _really_? Okay. Listen. Stan, I told you a while ago that I’m gay. I told you when I told the others—“

“We were at that senior kids party last year—“ Kenny interjects and Kyle nods. It’s about at this moment I recall that it was a ‘party’, and I’ve worked out how this played out.

Stan, dear, dear Stan, was most likely drunk as a skunk, I’m talking drunk like an Irish dude on Saint Patty’s day. Drunk like a Cowboy’s fan during the one time they’ve ever won the Super Bowl. Drunk like Kyle’s mom musta been when she got that hideous haircut.

And it’s beyond me why the others don’t realize this, _didn’t_ realize this. I decide to let it play out, the humor not yet subsiding from the situation.

“Yeah, dude. Terrance...something, the senior who-” Kyle starts but gets stopped by Butters cutting him off.

“Who broke Eric’s record for jumping homeless. Kyle sure is a fan of homeless jumpin’, I’ll say.” When Butters finishes, Kyle’s left eye twitches and I just want to buy Butters a cookie.

“As I was saying, it was at his party when we were standing near the back? After Kenny came back from playing spin the bottle.” Kyle looks to Kenny, who suddenly looks sheepish. His cheeks are starting to dust pink and I’m going to harass the shit out of him later for details.

“Uh, yeah. It was after that. He said he had something important to tell us, drug us outside and told us. You cried. And I mean, you cried _a lot_.” Kenny nods, pausing before smiling and adding, “And made sure we knew you loved us.”

Stan looks blankly at the two of them. He’s guilty, the alcohol is written all over his stupid face. Stan hasn’t looked this guilty since we found out what Red Rocket meant. Poor fucking Sparky.

It’s the moment Kenny sees that expression that I know Kenny has figured it out. They don’t call Mysterion one of the Coon’s best detectives for nothing; the Coon has him on his team for a reason. With that, Kenny goes back to his seat across from Stan. I can see the disappointment lacing his features, but Kenny’s too nice, too much of a bleeding heart to say the truth.

Thankfully, I’m here.

“Stan was drunk,” I deadpan, and I swear, that face could have been in the hall or fame next to Craig’s when he and Tweek broke up. God damn. I’m proud of myself. The lack of emotion I exude while I fold my fingers together and continue, the shock written all over Kyle’s face.

“Don’t look so shocked, Kyhal. Stan has an issue and you took his deadbeat ass to a senior party. What did you think would happen?”

Kyle looks at Stan, then the table, before he frowns. “Okay. So you drank, that’s fine. Whatever. The point is, I’m gay. We’re friends still, nothing changes that.” The finality in his tone makes even me question saying more, but I’m me and fuck it.

“Ah yes, time to ignore the real issue. Gonna bury the truth, ay, Kyhal?”

This gets a little kick from Kenny, and I know it’s that jackass that kicked me because Butters doesn’t have the balls.

“Yeah. Yeah, what matters is that I know now!” Stan picks up where Kyle left off, ignoring me like always. This is how the two of them survive, living in their little codependent, almost gay, but not gay, relationship. Turning the other cheek. Forgetting that something real almost happened here, and instead they change the subject immediately.

“So, anyone you like?” Stan perks up as Kyle smiles and shrugs his shoulder.

“I dunno, man, haven’t really explored it much.”

And with that, I don’t give two tits about the conversation. I let the world blur out, thinking about how I’m going to influence Kyle into talking more to Tweek.

I can hear Kenny’s muffled voice in the swimming sounds of my own mind. Tuning them out helps me think, and I swear I hear someone say something odd, so I tune back in.

“—And for the record, I-I’m not a virgin. Well, not a normal virgin,” Stan defends against whatever it was Kenny said, and I feel my face twist with disgust. “Not that being gay isn’t normal!” Stan tacks on quickly, and I’m more confused than before.

“Uh, gross. Ew? What the fuck does that even mean?” I question, looking to Butters who seems to be chewing slowly as if he’s ready to pounce with a comment.

“Wow, sounds like Wendy’s been peggin’ ole Stanley,” Butters drops his sly comment like the verbal terrorist he is, that bomb exposing more than Stan meant to by the look on his now pale face.

“Butters, I fucking love you man,” I feel a dramatic tear in my eye, wiping it away. That was the single most beautiful sentence to ever leave his mouth, and I’m so proud right now I could, fuck, I’m crying again.

Butters simply grins, biting into his sandwich again, lifting his eyebrows.

“Wow, what?! Hold on! Ah, fuck, wait. I didn’t say that!” Stan tries to put a stop to this, this beautiful moment. But it’s too late, Kenny has his claws in the situation and he looks like a starved fucking cheetah running after a sickly gazelle.

“Can we please not fucking talk about this?” Kyle tries feebly to stop the trainwreck from getting worse, but he doesn’t see the drama-hunger in Kenny’s eyes, that poor Jew.

“Hold on, hold on there, Kyle. I think the entire group would benefit from hearing about this. Stan, educate us on how Wendy lays the pipe. I want the construction site details, I need blueprints. I want to be inside this building of you. Tell me: how does Wendy peg you? Inquiring minds, is she gentle or does she take all that feminist rage out on that ass?”

When Kenny is done speaking, Stan looks like he is now about to burst. I love this part. It’s so much harder to get Stan to fuck up than it is Kyle, his temper a simmer where Kyle’s is Mount Vesuvius.

Standing, his voice carrying louder than I’m sure he means to, Stan shouts, “Wendy is NOT pegging me! She isn’t fucking me in the ass!”

The pièce de rèsistance is the small shocked voice that comes trilling from behind Stan, “ _I_ _’m not_ **_what_ ** _now?!_ ”

Stan’s face turns even more shades of white boy than anyone thought his pasty ass could turn. “Wendy’s behind me isn’t she?” he asks, and I have to do my broly duty, confirming for him with a nod.

“I mean...her being behind you shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, with her peggin’ ya and all,” Butters chimes and I’m so fucking glad he’s my best friend.

Wendy pushes Stan to the side, her eyes intense as she stares down Butters. But he simply chews his sandwich and offers her a smile. “Need something?” he asks, and I swear to holy hell I heard a vein rage-burst somewhere in her ‘gina.

“Come on, Stan. We don’t need to stay here and subject ourselves to this low level of debauchery.” I swear I can hear Wendy talk but sometimes I feel like I just see shit coming out of her mouth, just, log after log of SJW labeled shit. I’m aware she’s still talking, still saying shit to Butters, but he’s taking it on the chin like a champ.

Kenny tries at some point to calm her feminine rage, but not even his Princess wiles can soothe a cunt on a rampage. For a second I almost feel bad for Stan, then I remember he willingly sold his soul to this harpy in fourth grade and hasn’t been man enough to shut her up since.

It boils down to his own damn pussy ass, apparently. Some guys just can’t handle their women. It’s a sad existence. I’m aware this may come across as sexist, but it’s not my fault women aren’t funny. Deal with it.

The whole damn table watches as Wendy snatches Stan with her invisible pussy whip and drags the doomed fool off to do whatever sick twisted bullshit they do, like watching Real Housewives or crying over Chicken Soup books for the soul.

The rest of us are left, staring after the space that once held Stan. It’s Kenny that speaks first, “Well, fuck me running, never woulda _pegged_ Stan for a catcher.”

The groans from the rest of us signal just how awful his joke really is, Kyle being the one to open his mouth to tell Kenny what an idiot he was.

“Really, dude? Can’t you turn it off for two seconds?”

“Two, maybe three if you’re lucky,” Kenny shoots back, tongue poking out as he raises his hands to shoot Kyle with ridiculous finger guns.

It’s funny to watch Kyle be exasperated with someone other than me, and Kenny sure does know how to play those cues.

And almost like a gift from heaven, baby Jesus chooses this very moment to bless me with my opportunity. An empty seat at our table, and a spastic blond finding his way out from the lunch line.

 _Well, well, well._ Looks like God is on my side this day. Thank you Stanley for your noble sacrifice, you shall be remembered fondly.

I raise my hand before calling over Tweek, “Hey! Tweek! Seat over here!” This pulls his wild eyes toward us, and of course I catch them darting toward Ginger McGee. I try to contain my glee, but it’s hard, my lips splitting into what can only be described as a charming smile.

I can see the twitchy coffee addict, well, _twitch_ as he turns to make his way over toward us. I’m somewhat proud of him, for a man with no balls, he’s about to walk right into the ginger lion’s den.

I turn to look at Kyle and realize he looks like he gives zero shits. Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head to inquire, “Say, Kyhal, besides being a dick sucker, what else do you look for in a fudge packer? Oh sorry, I mean boyfriend.”

Kenny barely manages to contain his laughter behind his hand, stifling what sounds like an awfully painful snort. But it’s Kyle’s rage filled expression that brings me the most joy.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. That’s right, rip on me for my sexual preferences, lardo. It’s not like I’m not used to your bullshit,” Kyle rolls his eyes as I feign mock hurt, he’s not pushed far enough, and I’m letting my audience down if I don’t slam this red hot poker into the bear.

“Why, you wound me. I simply wish to inquire if you are into bears or otters. Isn’t that the terminology?” I ask innocently as I gaze sideways for backup from Butters.

“I thought y’all were twinks or daddies? Am I gettin’ this mixed up?” He answers, and I swear to God, Kenny’s about to laugh himself unconscious.

Kyle contains his rage to my surprise, but it’s another voice that calls out, to my even _larger surprise_.

“No, no. You’re all wrong. Craig told me they’re pitchers and catchers, or both, or like, Catamites, yanno, like he is,” having taken my invitation to bring Tweek into the fold, Clyde has somehow snaked his way to our table, putting his tray down next to Kyle.

Tweek follows, sitting his down next to Clyde’s, making a tasty little Donovan blockage sandwich.

I’m two seconds from another snide comment I can throw at Kyle when I notice laughter has ceased from the other side of Butters. Upon looking toward Kenny, I notice he’s gone incredibly pale.

“Wait, what's a catamite?” Butters questions, eyebrows narrowed curiously and mouth open.

Kenny blinks dumbly, I’ve only seen him freeze up a few times in my life and this, this is a fuck ton more disconcerting than the time he froze up before kicking Jenny Darcy in her sandy vagina.

“Kinny?” I manage to get out, ignoring the conversation. I don’t really give a titty what a catamite is, but somethings spooked Kenny awfully bad, and that part in my chest that makes me give a shit is bothering me.

“Huh? Wha?” Kenny snaps back to reality, like he’s in a Eminem song, eyes wide as he looks at me.

“You alright there?” I ask, hearing faintly Clyde spouting some sort of bullshit in the background. I lean behind Butters to pat Kenny on the shoulder, and he looks like he’s finally coming back to earth.

“Oh. Yeah. No, I’m good,” he lies. I know the cock sucker is lying because I’m the king of lies, but I’ll let it slip, choosing to go back to the current conversation instead. This thing isn’t over, but Kenny can chill for now.

“Ain’t no one calling you daddy, Clyde,” Butters grumbles as he bites into his sandwich, rolling his eyes. I’m confused as to where this turn of events originated, but I’m glad to jump in.

“Well, tell that to Bebe,” Clyde’s eyebrows wiggle like two thick, disgusting caterpillars dancing on his face. The movement lacks any of the charm that Kenny brings to it when he does it. Fucking Clyde.

“Really? She called you daddy? _Really_?” Kenny asks with just the right amount of skepticism, I approve his question with a short nod before eyeing Donovan for his answer.

“Like once. Sorta,” and at least the dumbass has the decency to look a little ashamed, “I mean, we were on the phone and turns out she was actually talking to her dad, but I was totally at half mast, so I think it counts.”

“Please Lord bring the rapture and take me now,” Butters mutters, putting his sandwich down. I agree, but poor Kyle will be left behind. Maybe he’ll be lucky and Tweek isn’t baptized. I should ask him one day, but that’s for another time. After all, heathens deserve heathens.

“Clyde, no one wants to hear about your chub,” I respond before turning to Kyle, “unless hetero beer can dicks are your thing, Kyhal?”

I’m waiting for the blow up, the volcano explosion of Jewish rage, but it never comes to fruition. Like those last dredges of cheesy poofs you can’t get out of the bottom of the bag.

“I’m sure Bebe is happy with what Clyde, uh, provides,” he responds and I’m blown away. The yapping chihuahua isn’t even talking, just _breathing_ in Kyle’s vicinity and he’s managed to quell his ever present Hebrew rage.

I stare blankly at Kyle, then at Tweek who is smiling at him like he’s a fucking triple shot caramel macchiato. It’s disgusting and...well, heart warming all the same. I guess gay love really does heal all.

“It’s at _least_ a forty, for sure,” Clyde tacks on to whatever shitfest this conversation turned into.

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Kenny chimes in and I want to warn him that Clyde is stupid enough to send those pics, but I realize I could get them for blackmail, and keep that tidbit to myself.

“I’ve got a couple,” and the sheer amount of excitement in Clyde’s voice is enough to make me puke up my KFC. And I do _not_ puke up The Colonel.

I can feel the bile in my throat. Thankfully, Kenny steps in with the receive and I’m grateful for his quick wit.

“I’m sure you do, scout. How’s about you make a drop box and send ‘em there,” Kenny makes a face, pretty sure this entire thing is shut down. Leave it to Tweek to bring it back.

“Why in the world would you have multiple dick pics?” he asks, his voice sounds so grating that I can only imagine Kyle has some sort of enhanced Jew hearing that makes high pitch sounds _pleasant_ to him.

“Tweek, maybe it’s best not to ask?” Kyle laughs, actually fucking _laughs_ , and I swear to my Messiah that he _smiles_ at Tweek. I can’t believe my eyes. I was fucking around this entire time, but if I’m not mistaken, I’m seeing a love match. Chemistry. _Jew flirting._

I need to discuss this with Kenny, but I don’t know how to get away without them noticing. Turning to Butters, I whisper near him that I need a distraction.

Just like always, he doesn’t question it. Instead he turns to Kenny and frowns, “Hey Ken, I think Wendy mighta been on her period when she was here, cuz I’m not feelin’ too good. Think you and Eric could run to my locker and get me my meds?”

There is...just so much to unpack. I stare at Butters, because what type of gay ass bullshit is he pulling? Is he allergic to blood? Is he insisting that he’s syncing up with her? That he has a period? Does he think _anyone_ is going to buy that?

Kyle seems to have the same thoughts running through his mind, but leave it to Clyde to be the ever present dumbass. “Oh no, that happens to BaeBae, too! Means she’s the alpha.”

I want to slap the idiot out of his mouth, but Kenny is standing from his seat, hands in his parka jacket looking at me as if he’s waiting for my ass to get up.

Fuck it. If people want to believe Butters sticks tampons up his asshole to stop his imaginary period, whatever. Who am I to judge.

I stand up, excusing myself with Kenny. I’m still flabbergasted by Butters’ excuse when Kenny shoves my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Dude, did you see that?” he asks, and I know exactly what he’s referring to.

“That 100 Kilowatt smile Kyhal was giving Tweek?” I ask as Kenny nods his head, looking just as dazed by this as I am.

“I haven’t seen him smile like that at anyone since-“

We both pause.

“ _Stan_.”

“ _Heidi_.”

I frown. When is this asshole going to get past my ex-girlfriend. “He’s been in love with Stan for years, Kinny.”

“No, he was into Heidi. He really liked her. I don’t know why you think everything’s gay, Cartman. Sometimes people are, y’know, straight. Or bi, or pan. Kyle liked her, he smiled like that at her last.”

I scoff at Kenny, arriving at Butters’ locker, leaning my shoulder against it. “Whatever, dick brain, I think Kyhal actually likes that meth-head.”

Kenny slaps my shoulder and I instantly frown at him. _Oops_ , wasn’t supposed to mention how his parents used to dope him up with meth in his coffee. Forgot that shit was taboo.

“Fuck, fine. Tweek. I can’t believe he may actually have his Jew lips wet for Tweek.”

Kenny gives me the most incredulous look I think I’ve ever seen him give me. “Jew lips?”

“That’s a new one I’ve been working on. Kinda like feminine lips, vagina?”

“Naw, naw I get it, but really? Come on Eric, that’s not even clever.”

“They can’t all be dynamite,” I explain before shrugging haphazardly. “Some are doomed to hit the cutting room floor.”

“If you were Jewish it woulda been funny,” he grins, his shoulders shaking with his laugh. And I have to give it to him, that was a good shot.

“At least I’m funny. You’re half girl, so you’re only funny half the time,” I shoot back, but Kenny has a shot locked and loaded for me, waiting in the chamber.

“Girl? Fuck you, I’m a Princess,” he curtsies, and I turn to open Butters’ locker, needing to hide the smile growing fondly on my lips. He can’t know he’s my favorite, it would go to his blond head so fast it would explode. The ego on this one.

I’m surprised to actually locate a pill bottle with _Leopold Stotch_ on it. They’re probably wacko pills since we all know Butters is losing his mind, but I take the bottle anyway so we have a proper alibi.

Pocketing the drugs, I turn to Kenny and shut the locker. “How should we get these two lovebirds together? I still vote the Asian girls—“

“You realize that’s not how it works, right?” Kenny cuts me off, eyebrow high on his forehead. “They don’t really control who is and isn’t gay. That’s something Mr. Marsh made up.”

Oh, Kenny. Poor sweet, delusional Kenny. Thinking Mr. Marsh could make up something that’s been happening for centuries. I just appear like I’m listening as he talks, plotting how I’m going to convince the Asian girls to choose Tweek for Kyle. As far as I could tell, a majority of the Japanese population in South Park still shipped Creek, even if that ship had long since sailed, so this wasn’t going to be easy. It had been years, and they still held out hope Tweek and Craig would get back together. So much delusion around here.

When we get back to the table, Tweek, Kyle, and Clyde are mysteriously gone. “Where’d they go?” I ask, Butters packing up his lunch.

“Well, Tweek got skittish on the account that Craig walked by. Then Clyde went to hang out with them, an’ Kyle offered to walk Tweek to his next class. He made up some all bullshit about how his class was nearby, but I’m aware he’s in physics next.”

“Tweek’s in English,” Kenny chimes, looking me in the eye as I nod.

“That sneaky Jew, those classes are nowhere near each other.”

“Nope, so I reckon you two better clue me in on what’s going on,” Butters smiles, and his medication feels heavy in my pocket.

“Alright. I guess we can trust you,” I admit, sitting down to settle into why Twyle has to become a thing.

## \-----

“What do you mean you won’t do it?”

“I ship Creek,” the girl repeats, her eyes narrowed at me.

“Like I give a fuck? This is USD, American currency. It’s $20. Isn’t that a lot to your people? Wouldn’t this feed like, your entire village?”

“I’m from here. I was born in South Park, you idiot—“

“Sorry, I don’t speak anime,” I retort, her head snapping to look at her friend next to her. They both look pissed as fuck, but girls are always pissed so what’s the difference.

“You racist piece of shit,” she starts, pointing her chopstick or whatever in my face, “I’m not even _Japanese_. I’m Korean!”

“I don’t care what you are. I want you to draw Tweek and Kyle deeply in love.” I wave the twenty in her face again, but she swats her hand at it like a cat. I thought these people were ninja or some shit? I’m astounded she didn’t just take it.

“Listen up Karate Kid,” I start and I can hear her say “ _Karate is Japanese! I’M KOREAN!_ ”- but I soldier on, “I give you this money, you draw for me. Easy.”

The rage coming off of her is almost enough to make me back down, but I’m on a mission and no one tells me _no_.

One of her friends says something in some weird sounding language, before she sighs and reaches her hand out. “If I draw it, will you go the fuck away?”

I smile, handing her the money and putting my hands together before bowing. I catch her roll her eyes. Not very honorable if you ask me.

“Now remember, Tweek Tweak and Kyle Broflovski,” I repeat, and she says something again in some language I don’t get, before nodding.

“Fine. But I don’t ship it, I don’t like you, and this is the only time I’m doing it.” She starts drawing, which is what I need, because honestly it only takes one drawing for reality to catch up.

\-----

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Whoever said this was a lying dick stain. _What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger_ , give me a break. What _you can avoid_ makes you smarter is the better phrase, not having to deal with crap that would make your life super lame, that’s what makes you stronger. Avoidance.

When I don’t like something, I ignore the shit out of it. When I want to avoid getting hurt, I pretend it never happened. I’m a perfectly healthy minded individual with a kick ass life, so whoever said you have to _actually_ deal with your issues, was a loser.

Dealing with uncomfortable situations is not my forte. And right now, I am faced with _a butt fucking forte_ of uncomfortable. My ex-girlfriend and her giggling gargling gaggle of estrogen infused harpies hell bent on making my life a living hell, have decidedly ruined what could have been a beautiful Tuesday afternoon with their obsessive chattering. I don’t know which Asian girl spilled to which harpy, I don’t give a fuck. But I’m seriously, you guys, I’m seriously two seconds from shooting myself in the head to escape this conversation.

“Eric? Eric are you even listening?” I hear Heidi ask, her voice droning on and on about what I don’t even know because no, I wasn’t listening.

“Yes, Heidi. I was listening,” I lie smoothly, because she doesn’t need to know her voice grates my nerves like so much cheese to a mandolin.

“Oh, well good! Because Nichole was saying you’re totally right, Kyle and Tweek balance each other out so well th—“ I can’t help but tune her out after hearing those sweet, melodic words.

“I’m sorry Heidi, but what did Nichole say?”

She looks confused for a moment, a slow blink before she’s pushing hair behind her ear. “She said you’re right?”

“Ah yes. That’s what I thought I heard. I could always trust Nichole to be the smart one in the group.” I preen, loving the sound of _me being right_ out of my ex-girlfriends lips. Everything following that is just icing on the proverbial cake.

“Well, Eric. We wanted to help,” she offers, somewhat timidly and I feel like this is an act. Heidi is anything but timid. She’s a wild beast, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She could rip a man’s scrotum off with her bare hands and throw it fifty feet.

I squint, wondering what her end game is. She has to have an end game, something she wants, something she’s trying to hide.

“Hey there, Heidi,” I hear to the side and I’m both annoyed as fuck and relieved to hear Butters. He can help me unravel what Heidi’s little plan is, no sweat.

“Hey Leo,” she starts and I can feel my nostrils flare, eyes rolling. Who the fuck even calls him that? Is she fooling anyone? “We were just talking about how the girls want to help Eric with Kyle and Tweek.”

“Oh, well hey, that sounds dandy,” Butters chirps, a smile on his lips, and I feel betrayed. God damn it, Butters, you had one job and you let your dick rule over your brain. Yes, Heidi is a very attractive girl, it’s why she’s my ex-girlfriend. Only the best for me. But that doesn’t mean you fall for her womanly charms, damn it.

“See, I don’t know if we need them,” I start, but Butters puts his hand up to stop me. Like, actually puts his hand up. Who? Who does that?

“Now Eric, I think this may be over you and Ken’s heads. It’s nice to have back up, and the girls know an awful lot about romance.”

Heidi nods in agreement, her lips covered in some sort of weaponized gloss, shining and bright, attracting everyone’s attention like a dumb poor moth to the flame. Damn siren song. Damn my charisma for attracting beautiful women.

“Leo’s right, we just want to help. Come on Eric, for old time sake?” she asks, and I can _feel_ the honey dripping from her tone, sense the song being sung, my ship threatening to crash against her rocky shore. Her fingers come out of nowhere, touching my bicep, and I can feel my stomach doing god damn gymnastics.

“Ah. Okay. I mean, I was thinking about including others anyway,” I submit, but only because I want to. Not because her eyes remind me of times long past, of days at the park, nights staring into the sky thinking and dreaming about Mars, about the future.

Abruptly my foot hurts like a god damn mother fucker, I screech out and jump backwards. Where my sneaker was is a large text book, one of the ones Butters had been carrying.

“What the ever loving _fuck_ , Butters?!” I whine, holding my foot and almost toppling over.

“Oops. Seems I have butter fingers, musta just slipped right out of my hand.” And the smug asshole doesn’t even _look_ apologetic.

Through the throbbing pain, I realize he’s released me from Heidi’s siren song, and she now appears normal again as she stands there watching me in mock concern.

 _Ah_ , I see! Butters saw what she was doing and followed through with a rescue plan. What a brave soul. He risked my awesome might and fury to break me free, busting the chains and opening my eyes to what was really happening.

What a true friend. Not like that asshole Kenny who decided _class_ was more important than our friendship. Fuck you, Kinny.

“Eric! Shit, are you okay?” Heidi tries, but I’m aware of her trickery once more, Butters cool and calm mockery of her question echoing behind her, “ _Oh yes, are you okay?_ ”

“I’m fine, nothing I can’t handle,” I say as I stand up straight, puffing my chest out. “Listen Heidi, we can all make a group chat about this Twyle situation-“ I see her mouth ‘ _Twyle_?’ before I continue on, “but I think we should all be more covert. Not be seen together.” She’s slowly nodding, like she understands, but she doesn’t, not really. I can handle talking over social media, a nice blanket of anonymity between me and her wicked ways.

“That’s a great plan, I’ll let the others know. We can’t have them catching on, it would ruin everything,” she chirps, excitement on her features.

I know this is part of her elaborate ruse, and now I get what it is. You’re not that hard to untangle, Heidi Turner. You miss this sweet bod and you’ve come crawling back for it.

I look to Butters who has the strangest look, somewhere between he’s smelt something awful and he’s been forced to eat a sour candy, on his face. He’s not even trying to hide it, and it makes me think he too has seen through her ruse. Ah yes, everyone wants a piece of grade A beefcake, and Heidi had that first sample so many years ago. It must be so hard for her. I should give her a little bit of a break, she’s lasted _this long_ after all.

“Heidi, Heidi, Heidi,” I start, my hand lifting and successfully pulling off the ‘ _hey_ ’ moment from _Into the Spider-Verse_ that Miles totally boned. “You are so correct, you’re still the smartest, funniest girl I know.”

I once heard a lesbian comedian (an oxymoron, for sure) mention how men could give _minimum_ effort and women would melt like putty. Though she was most certainly not funny, she was correct in that. Girls were so easy. You show a little, tiny bit of affection and they fucking go ape shit. I learned this over the years and weaponized it. Thank you HBO Lesbian, you did God’s work.

Heidi’s eyes seem to shine again. I watch as she licks her lips, which is a bad idea since that gloss is going to just end up all over her teeth. I step away, knowing I’ve sealed my dominance, letting her know she can’t sway me.

Out of the corner of my eye, Butters now looks like someone’s taken the largest shit possible in the same room as him, and by the looks of it, a KFC Friday night special where I introduce Nacho Bell Grande to the mix. _Damn_ , Butters, are you that much of a dick that you can’t even handle it when another man gets his dom on? Jealous much?

I’m going to throw him a bone, he was useful earlier pulling me free, so I nod in his direction before Heidi can respond. “Right, Butters?”

I’m waiting for his back up when I see his face wipe totally clean, and that bipolar little psycho is right back to gleaming like the sun. His smile bright and fake as all fuck. “Yeah. Heidi sure is the _funniest_ girl I know.”

Heidi’s cheeks darken with all the attention and she laughs, rolling her eyes, “Guys, stop. I’m not that funny.”

You’re damn right you aren’t. You’re not even close to HBO Lesbian.

“Anyway, I...I have to get to class,” she states, toeing the ground, taking a step back.

“Might want to scoot, wouldn’t wanna be late an’ get yourself a detention,” Butters answers, his smile never reaching the coldness of his eyes. Damn. Butters is a cold bitch.

“See yah!” She waves, totally ignoring that icy stare that could rival the Night King from Game of Thrones. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Butters was pissed off.

I’m a little confused when I wave her off, “What’s up your ass?” I manage to ask as the two of us turn to head to class, Butters eyes melting back to normal in a strange flip of character.

“Nuthin’, but she’s up to something, an’ I don’t like it,” he answers, which yeah, he’s right.

“Butters, bitches be always scheming,” I enlighten him, which turns that smile up five notches.

“Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks,” Butters quotes the wise lyrics of Dr. Dre as we round the corner into physics, and he’s never been more right.


End file.
